Porch Puppy
by The Readers Muse
Summary: "You found him on the porch, invited him in, we fed him," Eric commented, teasing. Ticking off the points with his fingers as his eyes glinted with mischief. "We're never going to be rid of him now."


**Disclaimer:** I don't own AMC's The Walking Dead or any of its characters, wishful thinking aside.

**Authors Note #1:** I felt like it would be interesting to explore what happened after Daryl left Aaron and Eric's house in 5x13. This is my attempt to do a 'missing scene' version of what could have been and explode my feels for that whole scene because holy damn, you feel me? – I had already started on this idea when I got this prompt from gunslingerdixon in my inbox, so this applies to that as well: "Aaron and Eric discussing the recruiter job and the bike."

**Warnings:** Spoilers for 5x13 *****Contains: adult language, adult content, established relationship, domestics, plays with the idea of a Daryl, Aaron &amp; Eric friendship - but if you read more into it I wouldn't say you are wrong.

**Porch Puppy **

"_Oh, when you're out there, if you happen to be in a store or something… Mrs. Needermeyer's really looking for a pasta maker and we're all really trying to get her to shut up about it. I mean, we have crates of dried pasta in here, but… she wants to make her own. Or something. I really just think she wants something to talk about. So… if you see one out on your travels, it would come a long way to… I thought it was done. You didn't ask him already?"_

"_Ask me what?"_

* * *

"So, how did the rest of the 'date' go?" Eric asked, looking up from the sink as he leaned against the counter, buried up to the elbows in suds scrubbing at the pasta pot.

He sighed, dampening down on his natural urge to mother hen as he watched his partner wobble - in imminent danger of tipping to port as he balanced on only one of his crutches.

"Okay, I think," he replied, shutting the door to the garage. Wiping his hands on the flat of his jeans as the musky tang of motor oil clung in the crevices. "Weirdly enough, you spilling the beans made it easier in the long run. He isn't exactly one to beat around the bush about anything. Too many words make him nervous."

"Was he sufficiently wooed?" Eric hummed, tossing him a cheeky grin before abandoning the deep pot for something a bit easier to handle. Nearly tipping right over as he plucked up one of the wine glasses by the stem, tapping at the glass with a triumphant flick of soapy water.

"Enough to agree to it," he returned, firmly ignoring his boyfriend's protests as he came in from behind, steadying him with the firm of his side as he redirected the faucet so that he was able to rinse as Eric washed.

"Really? What did he say?"

"Basically that he had nothing better to do, so why not?" he answered, making liberal use of quotation marks with his free hand as he started stacking the dishes on the drying rack. "This is exactly what he needs and he knows it. It's an acceptable middle ground. He's been looking for a reason to try. And this is it."

Eric just made a thoughtful noise. Humming idly - just under his breath - habit that usually meant he was working something through in his head.

"Well, I hope he doesn't get too comfortable, this is only temporary, remember?" Eric finally remarked, spitting out what his brain had been chewing on almost nonchalantly. Almost like it _hadn't_ been the cause of more than a few minor squabbles over the past few days.

"Eric," he sighed, knuckling at the back of his neck. Sensing an invisible thunder cloud building overhead as Eric's hands clenched white around the edge of the sink.

"_Aaron_," he parroted back, giving him a side eye as he drained the sink and rinsed suds off his arms. Alluringly wet and freckled as he fixed him with a look that was a bit too serious for what he had planned for the rest of the evening.

This time the sigh was audible.

"Can we not do this now?" he posed quietly, fiddling around with the dish towel before Eric rescued it from his clutches and shook the wrinkles out. "I know we need to hash this out and I know it isn't going to be pretty but- can we not? Not tonight?"

"Alright," Eric finally answered, hobbling a bit as he wobbled towards the table to liberate his other crutch. Hopping in place as he pushed the chair back in. "But I'm not budging on this, Aaron. We are a team and _I am_ getting back out there when this disaster heals. You're just going to have to get used to the idea."

He did them both a favor by not answering. Knowing that if he did it would effectively kill what was left of the evening. Instead, he let Eric call the shots and followed him to the couch.

"We've made a huge mistake you know," Eric remarked after a moment, twitching about trying to get comfortable as the gushy couch tried it's best to suck them all the way down to the springs.

"Oh?"

"You found him on the porch, invited him in, we fed him," Eric commented, teasing. Ticking off the points with his fingers as his eyes glinted with mischief. "We're never going to be rid of him now."

"And I don't know about you, but I just don't think I am ready for that kind of commitment," he continued, hand to breast in a mockingly dramatic pose as he sniggered through a laugh, bumping shoulders as Eric giggled softly.

"That such a bad thing?" he asked, half joking - half serious. "Being stuck with him, I mean?"

"His table manners are_ atrocious_," Eric declared, as if by way of answer. Fooling absolutely no one despite the fact he was currently squinting at the dinner table. Nose wrinkled like he was replaying the moment Daryl had slurped up his spaghetti so, well,_ indecently_. Getting sauce everywhere, including all over himself while they'd exchanged amused glances across the table.

"You like him," he returned confidently, smiling hugely as Eric made an unimpressed sound. Lacing their fingers together as his pulled his hand into his lap and traced the curve of his fingers with idle interest.

"Shower or not he still smells like a wet possum," Eric negated, not really trying to deny it but not trying too hard to convince him otherwise as he tapped his arm pointedly, tugging at his arm hair playfully for good measure.

"Or wet dog," he commented, trying not to think about how long the man had gone without a descent wash, or laundry day for that matter. "Maybe it's the jacket."

"Or _both_," Eric sniped, sniffing disdainfully, but with little heat to it. Serenely ignoring the victorious sound that left his lips as he seized on the realization that had been brewing slowly – just under both their radars – for the majority of the evening.

"Wow, you _really_ do like him!" he exclaimed, grinning up a storm when Eric smacked his arm. Doing nothing to refute the truth of it as he groaned aloud, pushing at him playfully.

"Alright mister, the injured party has had enough cheek out of you this evening!" Eric declared, brandishing one of the pillar candles like a sword, only to squawk in protest when he swooped in and flattened him into the cushions.

"I like him too," he mused, pressing a smile into the soft of Eric's throat, eying the chair Daryl had been sitting in thoughtfully. Teasing himself with the truth of it before Eric's hands wandered south and regulated all high brain functions to the back-burner.

* * *

**A/N #1: **Thank you for reading. Please let me know what you think! Reviews and constructive critiquing are love! – This story is now complete.

**Reference:** Big thank you to gunslingerdixon for the character dialogue.


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